


I've got your number

by vorpalsword



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Missy Being Missy, could be read as platonic Missy&Clara or as the start to a Missy/Clara relationship, obnoxious ringtones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 09:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20207674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vorpalsword/pseuds/vorpalsword
Summary: “How did you get my number anyways? I definitely didn’t give it to you.”“Yes, and that was quite rude of you. Luckily I am a time-traveling, mind-controlling, computer-hacking, gorgeous genius. And you don’t really need to be any of those things to obtain a phone number in the 21st century.”or5 times Missy calls Clara.





	I've got your number

**Author's Note:**

> Set mid S9 (after Witch's Familiar but before Face the Raven).

_i._

The first time Missy calls, Clara is on the TARDIS.

Clara and the Doctor were in the middle of an argument over whose turn it was to pick the destination when a song cut across their bickering, echoing through the console room.

_ Oh, Mickey, you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind hey Mickey! Hey, hey, hey Mickey! _

“That’s an awful ringtone. Why would you have that?” The Doctor frowns at Clara.

“That’s not my ringtone,” Clara frowns back, pulling out her phone and looking at it in confusion.

“Well, it’s coming from _ your _ phone, therefore, it is _ your _ ringtone. You humans and your _ smartphones _ . They’re not even that smart! What’s the matter with having a phone sound like a phone anyways? Or if it’s not going to sound like a phone, it should at least sound like something _ interesting _ \- “

“Missy!”

The Doctor frowns again. “Why would you make a phone that sounds like Missy?”

Clara glares at him and shakes the phone in his face, which is displaying a long string of random numbers and symbols instead of the usual caller ID.

“It’s Missy on the phone. Missy is calling me! Why is Missy calling me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, why would Missy be calling you?”

“That’s what I just -”

The Doctor snatches the phone out of Clara’s grasp and slides on his sonic sunglasses. He doesn’t say what information sonicing the phone provides, but his frown deepens and he makes a little huffing noise, which to Clara is an admission that she’s right. Before Clara can properly gloat, however, the Doctor answers the call.

“Missy?”

“Doctor! Lovely to finally hear from you,” Missy’s unmistakable voice echoes from Clara’s speakerphone.

“You called me,” the Doctor deadpans.

“I know! You don’t write, you don’t call, you leave me for dead on the planet of our greatest enemy...but not to worry, I’m wonderfully magnanimous, so let’s just call it water under the bridge, hmm?”

Clara scoffs loudly.

“Is that the skepticism of one Clara Oswald I hear?” Missy asks, and Clara can just _ hear _ the smirk behind the words.

“Yeah, it is,” Clara answers hotly. “What do you -”

But Missy cuts her off.

“Worked everything out then, have you? No lingering emotions about how the Doctor almost killed you?”

“YOU almost killed me!” Clara exclaims angrily.

“Oh, pish-posh. I don’t do _ almost _,” Missy says dismissively.

“_ Missy _.” It’s the Doctor this time, voice low in warning.

“Well it’s _ true _ ,” Missy protests. “And how come I never get any credit for my heroics? I saved both of you on Skaro but do I get a thank you? No, it’s always, _ why’d you push me down that hole, Missy _ and _ I almost died, Missy _. It’s dreadfully dull.”

“Missy, what do you want?” The Doctor asks in a defeated tone, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Can’t a girl just call to chat with her friends?” Missy says sweetly.

“No,” the Doctor says, at the same time Clara says, “We’re not friends.”

“How very rude of you!” Missy exclaims, but she sounds amused, not insulted. “Very well, I know when to make an exit, say no more about it. So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, good niiight!” She sings the last bit before hanging up the call.

There’s a moment of silence, finally broken by Clara, who has only one thought.

“What the hell was that?”

The Doctor passes Clara back her phone. He sighs and answers simply, “That’s Missy.”

Clara crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows at him. “Why’s she calling my phone?”

“Really, Clara, don’t worry about her. She only called you to get to me.”

“Why didn’t she just call you then?”

“She did.”

“No, she called _ me, _” Clara says, waving her phone around for emphasis.

The Doctor waves her off dismissively. “She obviously knew you would be here when she called, which means she basically called me. Why would she be calling you?”

“I don’t know! Why would she be calling _ you _?”

“Because I’m the only other Time Lord? Because we’re...friends? To remind me that she’s alive, and that I didn’t save her, so I should feel guilty? To make me worry about what chaos she’s going to cause next?”

The Doctor shakes his head.

“Honestly, Clara, I gave up trying to understand The Master’s motivations a long time ago. Sometimes Missy does things...just because she’s Missy.”

Clara wants to protest this statement, but the Doctor is looking a bit glum now, and Clara realizes this whole discussion has become about more than just a phone call.

“Okay. I’m sorry for pushing.”

“You’re always pushing,” the Doctor grumbles goodnaturedly. “But whatever she meant by it, I really think she was calling to get to me. So don’t worry about it. I’m sorry you’ve been caught up in the crossfire.”

Clara forces a smile and nods in agreement.

“Not everything’s about you, Clara,” he teases.

But Clara has a sinking feeling about the whole situation and she can’t help but think the Doctor may be wrong this time...

_ii._

The second time Missy calls, Clara is in the bath.

This time she didn’t know it was Missy, not at first. It was the Doctor’s fault she even answered, really.

See, last week the Doctor had shown up unannounced at Clara’s flat when she was in the middle of a face mask (fairly typical) and dragged her aboard the TARDIS without giving her any sort of time to clean herself up or even change out of her bathrobe (very typical). 

Normally this would be just another day in the life for Clara, but the Doctor just so happened to be in the middle of shepherding a group of alien dignitaries to a safe location (fairly unusual). And these aliens just so happened to be _ very _ attractive but also _ very _ terrified of Clara’s goopy green face (very unusual, and more than a little demoralizing for Clara).

Even after the Doctor explained the situation and she cleaned herself up, none of them would even stand within three meters of Clara, whose foul mood was only made worse by the Doctor insisting he hadn’t noticed anything different about her face.

As punishment, Clara told the Doctor he had to call ahead before dropping by her flat from now on. She didn’t actually expect him to do it - she rather thought he would forget - but it seemed she was to be proven wrong: she had been relaxing in the bath when her phone started ringing.

And he must really be trying to get back on her good side, because Clara’s phone was currently crooning:

_ Pretty woman, walking down the street _

_ Pretty woman, the kind I’d like to meet _

_ Pretty woman - _

Clara sits up and grabs her phone from the sink’s edge, leans back comfortably and answers with a smile.

“Still doing charm then, I see.”

“But of course, poppet, I’m always charming.” 

Clara sits up again so quickly she sends water spilling over the side of the tub, which splashes loudly over the bathroom floor.

“Missy?” Clara’s voice comes out high-pitched with surprise.

“Oh dear, is this a bad time?”

Clara can picture the other woman on the line, pretending to examine her nails with practiced nonchalance. She’s not sure how best to answer the question - when would be a _ good _ time to be contacted by an evil alien supergenius who tried to kill you? - so she responds with caution, trying to feel out the situation.

“Well, the Doctor isn’t here, so if you’re wanting to speak to him -”

“If I wanted to talk to the Doctor, I would have called the Doctor,” Missy says, sounding a bit exasperated and a bit amused.

“Yeah, that’s what I told him,” mutters Clara. 

Missy makes a sort of humming noise in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything else. After an extended pause during which it becomes clear Missy isn’t going to offer up anything on her own, Clara’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“So...you called to talk to me then?”

Missy heaves a dramatic sigh.

“Of course I called to talk to you. I called _ you _, didn’t I? Honestly, Clara, if you’re going to ask such silly questions this isn’t going to be any fun at all.”

“So you called me...for fun?” Clara says, a bit incredulously.

“Don’t you think we could have _ fun _ together, Clara?”

Clara shivers at the way Missy lowers her voice on _ fun _. 

She shakes herself, reminds herself she’s supposed to be annoyed, and counters, “What are you gonna do, stuff me inside another Dalek? Push me off a building to see how tall it is?”

Missy laughs.

“Well, that would be fun too,” she says, sounding amused.

Clara’s getting angry now, and she can feel herself gearing up for a full-fledged rant.

“Or maybe you’d like to expand your _ fun _ to include more people? Start a war, take over a few planets, blow up a couple of star systems, that sort of thing? That is what you do for fun, isn’t it?”

“You’re full of wonderful ideas, poppet. Really, you are! I mean, creatively you could expand a bit, but I’m loving the enthusiasm! Do keep it up. I may even take your suggestions one of these days.”

“Those weren’t SUGGEST -”

“Anyway, I really must run. As you said, places to be, people to maim. Ta-ta!”

And with that, the line goes dead.

Clara stares blankly at her phone. _ What the hell just happened? _

_iii._

The third time Missy calls, Clara is out shopping.

It’s not _ Hey Mickey _ or _ Pretty Woman _ , but Clara is sure of the caller just the same. (She’s not sure if the lyrics to _ Killer Queen _ sounding from her mobile are meant to reference Missy herself, or if they’re meant as a jab at Clara after their last conversation.)

When Clara answers, she jumps right in.

“How did you get my number anyways? I definitely didn’t give it to you.”

“Yes, and that was quite rude of you. Luckily I am a time-traveling, mind-controlling, computer-hacking, gorgeous genius. And you don’t really need to be any of those things to obtain a phone number in the 21st century,” Missy responds, seemingly unperturbed by Clara’s abrupt start to their conversation.

“Right. Fair point.” Clara mutters. 

Clara doesn’t know what Missy wants from her, but she’s not going to give her the satisfaction of throwing Clara off, not again. Really, it’s not weird at all to have a phone conversation with someone who once tied you up and threatened you with a pointy stick, Clara tells herself. This is fine.

She turns to browse through the nearest rack of clothes, waiting out Missy’s silence this time. After a moment, Missy speaks first, and Clara takes it as a small victory.

“What are you doing?”

Clara frowns at the question. She didn’t know what Missy wanted from her when she answered the call, but she hadn’t expected anything so...mundane.

“I’m in a shop. Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t,” Clara deadpans. “So you asked because…?”

“Well, because I’m trying out what you humans call ‘polite small talk,’ which I gather is all about asking questions you don’t care about the answer to. I believe the polite thing to do in this situation would be to ask me a similar question in return,” Missy says matter-of-factly.

“Fine. What are _ you _ doing, then?” Clara asks dully.

It comes out proper disinterested - as she intended - but after Clara asks she realizes she really _ does _want to know what Missy is doing. How does the Time Lady spend her free time? Clara tries to focus in on the background noise of the call to get an idea, but she can’t hear anything clearly enough.

“Oh, nothing much. Just chatting with my gal-pal,” Missy responds airily. 

Clara barely has time to wrinkle her nose at _ gal-pal _ before the unmistakable sound of an explosion echoes through the phone. Followed by another. And another.

“Missy. What did you do?” Clara asks, low and dangerous.

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head over, poppet, just a minor nuclear explosion to set off the chain reaction necessary for my takeover of the Veruna system. Very light work. Deserted area, no casualties.”

“Missy.”

“Well, alright, there was the one guard, but he was a great ugly thing so it’s no loss, really it was -”

There’s a quick _ beep-beep _ and Missy’s voice cuts out, replaced by static for a brief second. When she comes in clearly again, Clara hears the murmur of other voices in the background instead of distant explosions.

“- a face like that, I’ve done the universe a favor, but do I get any credit?” Missy tutts into the phone.

“Honestly, to get inside your mind...it must be fascinating,” Clara mutters, rolling her eyes.

“Thank you, Clara!” Missy sounds genuinely pleased. “Maybe you will someday.”

Clara doesn’t know what _ that’s _ supposed to mean and she hadn’t really meant it as a compliment, but decides to let it go - she was supposed to be sticking to her shopping and not letting Missy derail her life via phone. With that thought, Clara tucks the phone against her shoulder as she holds two dresses in front of herself, trying to decide if she fancies the blue or the black.

“Get the black one.”

Clara’s blood runs cold. She spins on the spot, knocks into another shopper, and nearly drops her phone, looking around wildly.

“What?”

“I said, get the black one,” Missy repeats patiently.

“Where are you?!” Clara hisses into the phone, heart racing, still scanning the shop for signs of the Time Lady.

“Raxacoricofallapatorius.”

“You’re lying.”

“Almost always. What of it?”

“Missy.”

“Yes, dearest?”

“Are you in the shop?”

“What shop?”

“Missy!”

Missy sighs dramatically into the phone. “Now why would I be in some silly human shop? Complete waste of time.”

“Then how -”

“I was only trying to offer you some fashion advice. You said you were shopping. I thought we were having nice girl talk.”

“Girl talk,” Clara says slowly, like she has never heard the concept before.

“Girl talk!” Missy exclaims far too enthusiastically. “You know, like _ girl, he doesn’t deserve you _ ,” she continues, now adopting a very bad, vaguely American accent. “ _ You should dump him and then I’ll hide the body. Also, you look like, totally hot in black and you should definitely buy that dress.” _

“Okay...so that was just...general life advice? Get the black dress?” Clara’s mind is racing from the run-around but her heartbeat is slowing at least. Missy isn’t here.

“My general advice is you look sexy in black, yes, but of course that’s just my opinion, you can take it or leave it,” Missy responds brightly.

“Right, okay...uh, thanks?” 

“You’re welcome!”

There’s another prolonged silence, before a confused Clara asks, “So...was there anything else…?”

“Oh, I think not. You’ve provided me with quite enough amusement for the time being,” Missy answers.

Clara rolls her eyes.

Missy continues absently, almost like she’s forgotten Clara is on the line, “Clara, Clara, Clara...you should have seen the look on your face.”

Missy giggles. The line goes dead. Once again, Clara is left gaping down at her phone.

When she recovers, she leaves the shop...but not before she buys the black dress.

_iv._

Clara doesn’t know what to do about the calls.

She could change her number, but she couldn’t imagine Missy would have any trouble obtaining the new one.

She could tell the Doctor...but what was Clara supposed to say? Missy wasn’t threatening her (or Earth, for that matter). Clara didn’t know what Missy wanted from her. She wasn’t sure Missy knew. _ Sometimes Missy does things...just because she’s Missy _.

She could just...not answer if Missy called again?

For some reason, this solution appeals the least to Clara. She tries very hard not to think about why. As luck would have it, it’s also the solution she’s forced to adopt.

Because the next time Missy calls, Clara is in the middle of a lecture.

When she hears the muffled music, she naturally assumes it’s one of her student’s phones.

“Alright, whoever’s phone it is, just take it out and turn it off please,” Clara says in her best Chill Teacher the voice - the one that says “I’m a bit exasperated with you, but I’m willing to be cool and let this slide.”

The students all look around at one another, but no one moves to take out their phone.

“Seriously? Come on, you all know better,” Clara says, more commanding now as the phone continues to ring. “I mean it, turn it off.”

She gives them all her best glare now to emphasize her point, until one of the girls in the front row pipes up.

“Uh, Miss? I think it’s coming from your desk…”

Clara’s phone is in her purse, which is in the bottom drawer of her desk. It shouldn’t take her more than a couple of seconds to get her phone, cut it off, apologize to the room, and resume her lesson like nothing happened.

Unfortunately, the bottom drawer of Clara’s desk sometimes gets stuck. 

So what actually happens is this: Clara gets the drawer open about 5 centimeters, where it sticks and refuses to budge. This is not enough space to retrieve her phone, but it is enough to let the music out into the room. And when they all hear it clearly, Clara knows she has lost the class for the rest of the day, maybe the rest of the week, because there’s no coming back from this:

‘_ Cause I may be bad but I’m perfectly good at it _

_ Sex in the air, I don’t care I love the smell of it _

_ Sticks and stones may break my bones _

_ But chains and whips excite me _

Clara feels like she spirals through all five stages of grief in a split second, without forming any coherent thoughts other than how she is absolutely going to _ kill _ Missy.

Clara slams the drawer shut and reopens it, and it sticks _ again _ , and the class is roaring with laughter, and Clara’s face is burning bright red, and the phone is now chanting _ Na na na come on! Come on! Come on! _as if it too is personally taunting her.

After what feels like an eternity but is actually just two more rounds of _ Na na na come on! _s, Clara slides the drawer all the way open, digs out her phone, and rejects the call.

For a moment she just sits there, flushed and defeated, while the kids laugh and continue on with the song themselves. The silent phone now reads _ 1 Missed Call: Missy _. There are several hearts and a kissy face emoji next to the name which Clara is definitely not responsible for.

“Alright.” Clara says, more to herself than her students. She takes a deep breath, clears her throat loudly, and looks up at them, “Alright. _ Enough _.”

(She says this in her best Intimidating Teacher voice, the one that _ really _ means business.)

They’re good kids, this batch, and most of them quiet down right away when they see how serious she is - Clara imagines she’s looking downright murderous - the singing stops immediately, at least. There’s still plenty of giggling, but to be fair Clara doesn’t expect that to stop anytime soon.

Clara stands up but before she can address the class, her phone goes off again.

_ You say goodbye, and I say hello. Hello, hello! _

_ I don’t know why you say goodbye, I say --- _

Clara rejects the second call and double-checks her phone settings, but it’s set to silent like it always is when she’s at school.

“Right. Okay. Obviously I am having some...issues...with my phone...malfunctioning,” she tells the class. “But we still have work to do.”

She takes a cardigan off the back of her chair and wraps her phone in it, stuffs the whole thing back in her purse, puts the purse in the drawer, and then as an afterthought, drops a whole stack of her marking on top before she shuts it all up in her desk. If Missy kept calling, hopefully that would muffle the sound enough for her to get through her last class.

“So, who can tell me about the theme of this poem?”

Clara tries to get her class back on track for a few minutes, but they’re all still giggly and unfocused from the outburst. In the end, she gives in and tells them to get a head start on their reading assignment for the day. The kids whisper to one another and pretend to be reading, while Clara goes back to her own desk where she pretends not to listen to them.

It’s very, very faint, but Clara is sure she can hear Whitney Houston crooning, _ It’s not right, but it’s okay _ from her desk drawer.

_v._

All in all, Clara’s having a pretty good day. After promising her kids a homework-free weekend if they were on their best behavior, she coasted through her Friday afternoon lessons. Clara even has a date tonight - the barista who’s been giving her free extra shots in her morning lattes finally asked her out, so they’re going to dinner. Her phone has been blessedly silent since the fiasco at school two weeks ago, so no, Clara isn’t thinking about Missy at all. 

She’s perfectly happy and not missing the attention at all, thank you very much. And the fact that she’s turned her phone off for the evening just means she wants to be 100% focused on her date. It’s not like she’s _ expecting _ a call tonight...or for the last two weeks...

Clara puts on the black dress she bought a few weeks ago and heads to the restaurant. It’s dimly lit, full of tiny two-person tables, and has soft music playing. It’s very intimate and probably a bit too fancy for a first date, but hey, it was Nina’s suggestion and Clara deserves to be wined and dined, right? 

Nina greets her with a shy hug as they settle down at their table. They make small talk over the wine list, order drinks and an appetizer. The drinks come, Nina makes a joke, Clara laughs. It’s nice. It’s normal. It’s going perfectly well.

Then Nina puts her hand on Clara’s arm, and it’s like a chain reaction ignites.

Nina touches Clara, and at that precise moment Clara’s phone rings at a volume much louder than it should be capable of (nevermind the fact that it was turned off). The sound echoes throughout the quiet restaurant. All of the other patrons turn and stare, and of course the phone isn’t just _ ringing _ , it’s _ singing _ , and _ oh, god it’s singing- _

_ DON’T CHA WISH YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAS HOT LIKE ME? _

_ DON’T CHA WISH YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAS A FREAK LIKE ME? _

_ DON’T CHA? _

_ DON’T CHA - _

Clara fumbles frantically for her bag, face bright red - 

_ DON’T CHA WISH YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAS RAW LIKE ME? _

_ DON’T CHA WISH - _

Phone finally in hand, Clara rejects the call. Then - remembering the last time - she flips it over, removes the battery, and drops both back into her purse.

“Sorry,” she mutters to her date.

Clara looks up to find not only Nina, but the entire restaurant staring at her.

“Er...sorry,” she says a bit louder, now directing her apology to the room.

A few people chuckle, others look disapproving, but after a moment they all turn back to their own meals. Clara refocuses on Nina, who thankfully is one of the people looking amused by the whole situation.

“Friend of yours?” she asks teasingly.

“No,” Clara answers, a bit too decisively.

Nina raises an eyebrow. “Your ex?”

“NO!”

Nina’s eyebrow goes up even further.

“It’s...she’s like...the friend of a friend. Or the ex of a friend?” _ Who keeps calling me even though I haven’t seen her since she tried to kill me a while back. But I also don’t think she’s calling me because she wants to kill me. _

“I don’t know. It’s...complicated,” Clara finishes a bit lamely.

“I bet,” Nina sounds more confused than amused now, but Clara quickly changes the subject and they pick up pretty much where they left off.

Except now Clara is sure to keep all her body parts on her side of the table and out of Nina’s reach. 

This has nothing to do with the call, Clara tells herself. She’s definitely not apprehensive at all about what a maniacal Time Lady might do when she’s being ignored.

Leaving the restaurant, Nina invites Clara over for a drink at hers. But Clara barely hears the invitation - which she brushes off with a cheery, “Maybe next time!” - because she’s already walking in the opposite direction, where she’s just seen the edge of a purple skirt disappear around the corner.

_vi._

Clara thinks she understands now, why Missy keeps calling her. Or she thinks she understands as much as anyone could ever understand Missy.

She rounds the corner, already smirking at the thought of being able to lorde over Missy that she’d been caught spying. But instead of coming face to face with the Time Lady, Clara sees… an empty alleyway?

Clara takes another step into the alley, frowning. She was so sure that had been - 

“Oh, hello poppet.”

Clara jumps and spins around, and there’s Missy leaning casually against a building behind her.

“Missy,” Clara greets calmly. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” Missy shrugs.

“Just happened to be in the neighborhood?”

“Something like that.”

For a moment neither woman says anything. But the phone calls have gotten Clara accustomed to Missy’s silence, and she waits for the Time Lady to speak first.

“You look nice,” Missy finally says, taking a step closer, her gaze dragging slowly over Clara. Clara, who’s wearing the dress Missy picked out for her.

Clara bites back a smile.

“You have good taste,” she replies.

“I really, really do,” Missy smirks. 

Another silence. Clara watches Missy carefully, and waits.

“You stopped answering my calls,” Missy says. Her tone is casual, but she’s not meeting Clara’s eyes now.

“It was a bad time,” Clara says honestly.

“Hmm,” Missy sniffs indifferently.

“But I’m free now,” Clara continues.

“Really? It looked like you were busy with your little _ friend _ back there.”

Now Clara is the one smirking.

“I knew it! I knew you were watching me.”

“Hmm,” Missy sniffs again, now kicking around some loose gravel in the alley and definitely avoiding Clara’s gaze.

Clara steps closer to the other woman. They’re only a few feet apart now.

“I’m free now,” Clara repeats. “Actually, I think I’ve just become very...available.”

Missy glances at Clara, then away again, but now there’s a hint of a smile when she replies, “Careful, poppet. You’re starting to sound a bit desperate. Someone might take advantage.”

Clara leans against the wall, mirroring Missy’s position.

“You know what? I think I wish she would,” Clara says with a sly smile.

Missy looks up and locks eyes with Clara. She meets Clara’s sly grin with a smirk of her own as she takes a final step closer, closing the distance between them.

“My Clara, your wish is my command.”

Then Missy grabs Clara’s arm and they vanish into the time vortex together.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is my first fic so I would super appreciate any feedback :)
> 
> Songs referenced (in order of appearance):  
Hey Mickey - The Chin Chins  
Pretty Woman - Roy Orbison  
Killer Queen - Queen  
S&M - Rihanna  
Hello, Goodbye - The Beatles  
It's Not Right, But It's Okay - Whitney Houston  
Don't Cha - The Pussycat Dolls


End file.
